


Young Minds, Fresh Ideas

by BubuBORG



Series: Team Medi:  Sons of Durin [3]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Discovery reference, Dwarves In Exile, Dwarves in Space, Dwarves in Starfleet, Gen, Gold Sickness (Tolkien), Jell-O shots, Other, Project Genesis - Freeform, Sly Adventure Zone reference, Team Medi, Utopia Planitia, Whale probe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2018-12-26 07:43:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12054435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubuBORG/pseuds/BubuBORG
Summary: That’s the thing about changing.You don’t get to change back.  You don’t get a do-over.The force of change is always forward, even when the direction isn’t what you expected or intended.





	1. Deeper Well

That’s the thing about changing.

 

You don’t get to change back.  You don’t get a do-over.

 

The force of change is always forward, even when the direction isn’t what you expected or intended.  

 

So it was that when Ensign Kíli got his first posting, he fully expected to land a starship.

Imagine his surprise when he didn’t.

“Mars?” he said, reading the official order.

 

His friends were sympathetic, but not especially surprised.

“Mars?” he said again.  

“Listen, Kee,” Tiffany DeSalle said.  “I thought when I graduated, I was going to be getting on one of the science vessels, like Martino did aboard the _Grissom_ , or Shav aboard the _Hanson_.  Instead I’m in the comm pool at the new Spacedock.  We all have to start somewhere.”

“And Utopia Planitia’s not exactly a low-profile posting,” Eldon Sinclair added.  

Kíli nodded thoughtfully.  He then turned to the quiet young Vulcan woman looking pensively out of the window of the Quantum Cafe.

“What do you think, Saavik?” Kíli asked.

“First postings are typically intended to give the graduate a further amount of education in the field,” she replied, in her typical cool manner.  “Your field is engineering; it’s logical to post you to a shipyard.”

“My dad’s served on shipyards,” Tiffany reminded Kíli.  “Utopia’s going to be where all the new starship designs of the next century are going to be made.  This is for you.  Trust me.”

 

“He-e-ey!” a familiar voice called from the entrance.  Kíli didn’t even need to look to see who it was.

 

With a tawny mane and a well groomed goatee, Kíli’s brother Fíli crossed the room.  He grabbed Kíli’s arms and touched their foreheads together.  “Congratulations, _Khazâsh_ ,” he said.  “Been a long time coming.”

“I’ve been posted to Mars,” Kíli said.  His face was still tinged with disappointment.

“What?  That’s wonderful!” Fíli exclaimed.  “That means we get to stay in the same system a little bit longer!”

“I-I thought you were going to be doing your doctoral training on the _Salk_ ,” Kíli stammered.

“Nope, I’m going to be doing my doctoral work in Bethesda,” Fíli said.  

“Well, that’s great!” Kíli said.  

 

Eldon had his imaging device and told the two to pose for a photo.  Fíli and Kíli looked at each other and shrugged.  Fíli put his arm over Kíli’s shoulder as they mugged for Eldon’s camera.  

They’d come a long way in four short years.

 

Kíli’s dark hair was still clipped short, but his beard had finally grown in.  His smile was infectious.  Fíli kept his usual cautious smirk, but he had the look of breathless activity, with his tanned face and hair that looked like he’d just woken up.  He flashed a thumbs-up at the camera as Eldon hit the shutter.

“Yeah,” Eldon said with satisfaction.  “This one’s going in the scrapbook.”

“He’s still doing the scrapbook?” Kíli asked Fíli.

“Still, yeah,” Fíli replied.  “Say, where’s Tamryn?”

“She wasn’t feeling that well,” Eldon replied.  “Morning sickness.”

Fíli nodded.  “She’s still not trying those roots I suggested?”

“She’s not touching those roots with a ten-foot pole,” Eldon replied.  “No offense.”

“Can’t say I didn’t try to help,” Fíli replied with a shrug.  “Anyway, Kee!”

Kíli closed his eyes and groaned.

“We have to celebrate this!  You’re going to be headed out to Mars, where the social scene is going to be filled with engineers who are more at home with intermix chambers and conduit than with actual sentient beings.  

“We have to party.”

 

It was a far cry from the sedate bar that Leonard McCoy took them to their first week on Earth.

The Deeper Well was located in Staghart, South Carolina, one of the towns created in the wake of the Reid Complex.  This might not have been a coincidence on Fíli’s part.  

As Kíli wandered through the activity of folks bustling and the honky-tonk band playing he heard his name being exclaimed over the din.

“Over here!  Kíli!” 

It was Kaitlin Reid and Kevin Riley.  She was out of uniform, wearing a shift dress and he was wearing a bomber jacket over a jumper.

“Oh!  Hey!” he cried back and moved to their table.  Joining them already was Tiffany. She was wearing her hair down, and had a pink jacket over her top.  Her usually conservatively made up face was brightly colored.

“What’s this?” Kíli said, looking at the small plastic cups filled with bright colors.

“Gel shots!” Tiffany exclaimed.  “They’re _so_ fun!”

“Don’t start without me!” Fíli cried from a distance.

 

“How’ve you two been?” Kíli asked Kaitlin.

“Oh, you know,” Kaitlin said, glancing at Kevin slyly.

“Still?” Kíli teased.  “Come on, you two.  Get it together.”

“Look who’s talking!” Kevin replied.  “Fíli says that you practically lived like a monk when you were at the Academy.  You didn’t even go to the Sadie Hawkins dance—not even once!”

“That is none of his business—thank you,” Kíli said, accepting the longneck Fíli passed him.  

“There is no shame in not feeling the need to act out in public,” Kaitlin said, defending Kíli.  “But you know, if you wanna know, I think Tiffany’s a little sweet on you.”

Kíli looked back at Tiffany, grinning and chatting with Fíli.  She’d already knocked back two of the gel shots.  

“I’m really not interested in courting,” Kíli said. 

Kaitlin’s eyebrows arched.  “Oh?”

 

“No.  See,” And Kíli attempted to explain, his hands darting out to gesture.  “In our culture, we believe that there is one person meant for us.  Literally, they’re called our ‘One’.”

“You’re monogamous to a fault,” Riley pointed out.

“Well, let me finish,” Kíli said.  “And, see, before—“ and he made a slashing motion with his finger against his throat—“I’d met someone who caught my heart.”

“Are you pining for her?” Kaitlin asked.  “Even through death?” 

“See, If I’d truly died, she would feel it,” Kíli said.  “And I didn’t.  So out there, she _knows_.  And that’s why I have faith that we’ll meet again.”

“You little romantic,” Kaitlin said, and squeezed Riley’s hand.  

“ _Indâd_ sought out Erebor, looking for his home,” Kíli said.  “And I realized that maybe home isn’t a place.  It’s a person.  So when she and I are together once more, _I’ll_ be home.”

“ _Omigod_ , Kee!” Kíli was virtually attacked by Tiffany who wrapped her arms around him.  “That was so beautiful!”  

“Gah!  Tiffany!” he exclaimed.  “No more gel shots for you!”

 

Riley turned back to Fíli and asked, “What about you, Fee?”

“I start med school in the fall,” Fíli replied.  “I’m not looking for my One.  I’m looking for pathology notes.”

“So you’re not doing your M.D. program on a medical ship?” Kaitlin asked Fíli.

“No, I got a recommendation for my pre-med instructors to stay planetside and do the program at Bethesda,” Fíli replied.  “They have the strongest program for xeno-comparative A&P—“

“Hold on, translate for us,” Riley said. 

“It’s the best program for practicing medicine on alien life,” Fíli explained.  “When Kee and I arrived here, they had to start from scratch, learning about how we worked.  When Dr. McCoy explained that, that sparked an interest.”

Kaitlin nodded. “Makes sense.”

“And, back home, there’s at least four or so species that coexist.  It could come in handy.”

 

 

In all, about a dozen of Kíli’s classmates and friends stopped at the Deeper Well, not only to celebrate his posting, but their own as well.  

Many of them were going to be assigned to the experimental starship that was docked at the San Francisco Fleet yards.

Kíli secretly was hoping for that posting as well.

“I did my graduate thesis on transwarp theory!” Kíli exclaimed.  “I got my hands on as much declassified materials on the prototype drive as I could without breaking regulations!  I should be on the _Excelsior_ team!”

By then he’d had his share of gel shots.  His Tellarite classmate Vaagen looked on with something resembling sympathy.  

Then again, Vaagen was getting assigned to _Excelsior_.  

He sighed.  “Kee, you are going to be working on constructing new starships.  You are going to be _building_ _Excelsiors_!”

Kíli grumped.  “It’s not the same.”

The Tellarite sighed again.  “I can’t believe you’re the second-oldest Academy graduate in its history.”

“So when do you ship out?” Fíli asked as he swung around.  

“Two days,” Fíli said.  

“Don’t get yourself all twisted up about your first posting.  This is where you start.  This is the beginning of your adventure!”  He jostled his brother about the shoulders, and then looked very serious.  “ _Indâd_ would be very proud of you.  They _all_ would.”

Tears began to spring from Kíli’s eyes.  Fee always knew what to say.  

“Now have a care for your older brother who continues to toil at this apprenticeship,” Fíli added.  “That’s the MD program and the residency after that.  By the time I become a Chief Medical Officer…why, it might not be until the twenty-fourth century!”

 

 

Saavik was housed in San Francisco, not far from Starfleet Medical where Kíli spent his first nine months on Earth.  He swung by after the party; Saavik wasn’t one for crowds or celebrating, by her nature.

“It is late,” Saavik said at the doorway.  She was wearing a simple Vulcan robe.

“You didn’t go to the Deeper Well,” Kíli said with a shrug.  “I thought I’d try for a nightcap before I turned in.”

“I do not understand,” Saavik said with a sigh as she watched him pour a beverage into two glasses.

“Well, see, what I understand is that humans will pour themselves one last drink before they go to bed, and that’s a nightcap—“ Kíli said, semi-mockingly.

“I keep no alcoholic beverages,” Saavik said.  “And I do not understand your need to perpetuate a relationship with me beyond that of colleagues.”

“We’re friends,” Kíli said, frowning.  “At least by _my_ definition.  Does it need to require more analysis than that?”

“You have made clear you have no desire to mate,” Saavik replied bluntly.  

“Friendship doesn’t require a desire to mate,” Kíli replied.  “You spoke to me when I was alone on this world.  You seem pretty lonely sometimes yourself.  That’s all.”

“I need no prolonged socialization outside of my circle of acquaintances,” Saavik maintained.  “I am not like you.”

 

In the years since Kíli had met Saavik, he’d learned bits of her early years on Hellguard, a planet bordering the Romulan Neutral Zone.  For someone to have a dual heritage as she did, it was not always easy.  Like her mentor, Captain Spock, she sometimes struggled with an emotional side.  However, she seemed to take to her friendship with the insistent Kíli rather well, as he patiently asked about Vulcans, Romulans, and pretty much everything else about the new world he found himself in.  In that regard they were similar.

 

For example, he learned from her the historical connection between the Vulcans and Romulans, and their conjectural connection to the Quendi Elves on his home world of Arda.

 

“I know,” Kíli replied at last.  “And I know you value your solitude.  That’s why I appreciate being in your circle of acquaintances.”  He handed the glass to her.

“To the future,” He said, proposing a toast with her mineral water.

She allowed herself an imperceptible smile.  “The future, then.”

“You never said what _you_ were doing,” Kíli prompted.

“Captain Spock has requested that I continue post-graduate work at the Academy,” Saavik replied.  “I will maintain dual status as officer and trainee, as well as aid in the _Enterprise_ training program.  My ultimate goal is to command a vessel of my own.”

Kíli nodded.  He himself was able to train with Commander Scott his final year at the Academy aboard the _Enterprise_.  He was run ragged by the old engineer but learned how to fly the legendary ship as well as a veteran crewman.

“Then I guess you’ll be signing up for the _Kobayashi Maru_ elective,” he suggested.

“The notion had occurred to me,” Saavik replied.  

“I took the test in March.  My group lasted twenty minutes,” Kíli said.  “I was able to boost the shield output by ten percent, but then…” he blew a raspberry.

“It is a test,” Saavik replied simply.  “There must be a means to pass it.”

“Well, good luck to both of us,” he said, putting the glass down.  

Saavik nodded.

“Well,” Kíli said, wiping his hands on his trousers.  “Don’t be a stranger, Saavik.  I’m only the next planet over.  Captain Spock doesn’t have all the answers—feel free to stay in touch?”

Saavik cocked an eyebrow.  “As you wish.”

With that, Kíli threw her a salute and left.

 


	2. Utopia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili gets his start at the Utopia Planitia fleet yards, and goes on a musical discovery between space walks and installing conduit.

Kíli was led through the corridors of Personnel B of the Mars fleet yards over Utopia Planitia. He carried his initial belongings in a rucksack over his shoulder and tried to keep up with the officer leading him to his living quarters.

 

“You’re lucky,” the human officer said over his shoulder.  “We have a pretty expansive crew area here on Utopia so you won’t have to buddy up.  At least not at the moment.”

Kíli simply nodded as he adjusted his shoulder strap.  

“Say, don’t take this the wrong way, but what species are you?” he asked.

“Um, Khazad,” Kíli muttered.  

“Oh,” the officer replied.  “Well, welcome, again, to Utopia.  I’m Lieutenant Commander Lettrell, I’m the Resource Officer of PB, so whatever it is you need for your living quarters goes through me, so feel free to come with me with all your requests.  My office is in level six, and leave a message if I’m out.  Do you have any questions?”

Kíli put his bag down in front of his door.  “I haven’t received my crew schedule,” he told Lettrell.  “And It was a bit unclear who I report to.”

Lettrell grimaced.  “Right.  Sorry.  Orientation for new arrivals will be at 1600 at the Office B station in the common area, where you’ll be assigned your work team, and everything will be pounded out there.  Until then, settle in, get a meal and I’ll see you then.”

“Thank you,” Kíli said and walked in.

 

The room was spartan, but spacious enough for him.  He put his bag down, sat in an overstuffed chair, and sighed.  Through the window, he could see the shipyards.  Drydock frames containing ships in varying states of construction.  One particular one caught his attention.  It had a thick primary hull, and four nacelles.  One of the new _Constellation_ -class ships, if he wasn’t mistaken.  Due to be commissioned within the year.  

Sending ships off to sail, he thought.  But who knew when he’d sail himself.  He chuckled at himself for the thought.  _A dwarrow-lad longing to sail.  What would they think back home?_  

_What would_ she _think?_

 

He took the photo of himself and Fíli and put it next to the bed.  He then took his clothes and put them into his dresser.  The rest would arrive here and there over the next month as he settled in.  

Finally, he put his instrument case on the table and opened it up.  

It was a mid-sized violin.  He picked it up and plucked at the strings, making sure they were still in tune.  He took it under his chin and bowed up and down the scale.  

He nodded with satisfaction, and placed the instrument back in its case.  With any luck there was others on the base who played.  

 

At 1600 hours Kíli was with about ten other arrivals in a large common area in the office station complex.  

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the personnel commander addressed them.  “Welcome to Utopia Planitia.  I see we have a good mix of fresh graduates and transfers here.”  And they looked amongst themselves, there were about four fresh-faced ensigns, Kíli included, and more seasoned officers who eyed each other knowingly.  “I think it’s fair to say that your assignments were chosen based on your talents, and they’ll come into play fairly quickly here.  We’re building the future of Starfleet here, and you’re all on the ground floor.  Now for the team assignments.”

The higher ranked officers were picked out first, many of them leading teams of their own.  The junior officers were tacked onto teams who need filled out.

“Ensign Kíli?” the commander called at last.

“Sir?” Kíli responded.

“You’re assigned to team Tango-3,” he told Kíli.  “I’m sending your schedule to your concierge computer.  I’d also like to schedule a one-on-one with you tomorrow.”

“Um?” Kíli said, nervously.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing troubling.  Just wanted to discuss your academic interests.”

Kíli reported to Drydock Tango-3 to introduce himself.  A half-dozen officers were scurrying about the control deck, in full view of a skeletal space frame of what would eventually become a _Miranda_ -class cruiser.  

“Looky-loo,” A redheaded man announced when he noticed Kíli’s arrival.  “We have our lucky fourteen.”

Kíli paled a bit, but recovered as the redhead extended his hand.  “I’m Lieutenant Rumsey, Ensign, welcome to Tango-3.”

Rumsey, Kíli would learn, was from a part of Earth called Adelaide, Australia, and had a drawly accent as a result.  “Lucky fourteen, you say?” he responded.  

“Fourteen’s the standard team complement,” Rumsey explained.  “We’d been short a hand since we lost—anyway, we’re happy for the help.  According to what they sent ahead of you, you’re best with warp engines?”

“Warp field geometry, to be exact,” Kíli clarified. “Not that it’s going to do you any good in construction—“

“Well, don’t be too sure.  We perform the initial configuration of the warp field when the nacelles are first attached to the warp core,” Rumsey said.  “For right now, you and Ensign Gale will be airlifting the warp coils for fitting in the nacelles.  With any luck, we’ll be calibrating the fields by the end of the week.  Then we can start putting the skin on over the frame and installing the interiors.  We want to pressurize the ship and get it on its first shakedown cruise by the end of the month.”

Kíli blinked.  “That’s certainly faster paced than I expected.”

“We take our time with the new designs for a good reason.  But the _Miranda’s_ a tried-and true design, and the process is pretty well pounded out.”

“Well,” Kíli sighed.  “Sounds like a pretty well-worn routine.  When do I start?”

“After your meeting with the PC tomorrow,” Rumsey replied.  “And then you and Gale can beam down to Fabrication and transfer the coils.  D’you know how long it takes verterium cortenide coils to cure?”

“128 hours,” Kíli replied.  

“A bloody eternity, is what,” Rumsey muttered.  “And we can’t shave a single minute off the process, so getting the coils up here is of the highest priority.  After that, it’s all downhill.”

“Ah,” Kíli said.  “I appreciate the confidence you have in me, first time out and all.”

“No problem.  I think you’re gonna like it here.  You’ll be in the SCE in no time.”

“The Corps of Engineers?  Well, let’s pace me a bit first,” Kíli replied, chuckling.

 

“All right, that’s it for today!” Rumsey called out to the other team members.  They began logging out of their equipment and shutting stations down.

“You caught us at the tail end of our shift,” Rumsey explained.  “You hungry?”

“I could eat,” Kíli replied.

“C’mon,” he gestured with a wave.  “Join us in the lounge and I’ll get you up to speed with all the rest of the team.”

 

It was quiet in the lounge, the seven team members and the lounge attendant being the only ones there.  Kíli took his drink and sipped at it; he continued to be disappointed in the potables that Starfleet provided.  Everything seemed watered down.  He suspected that it was a subtle means to encourage teetotaling.   If the others weren’t happy with their lot, they didn’t show it.  At any rate, he learned that half of the team worked the morning shift, and the other half worked the evening shift.  He’d be working the evening shift with Rumsey and them.  With Rumsey was Gale, a sturdy young blonde woman who was only a head taller than the Dwarf; A dark-skinned human named Patel; A blue-skinned Andorian named Aldor; and finally Morrisson, a coffee-skinned woman with honey-colored hair and dark green eyes.  Tandy Morrison Kíli recognized from the Academy; she was an upperclassman he shared many classes with. 

“Did you bring your violin?” she asked Kíli.

“Um, yes, I did,” Kíli replied.  “Did you bring your cello?” 

“Yes!” she exclaimed.  

“Do they already have a string quartet on base?” Kíli asked.  

“I don’t know yet,” Tandy said.  “I only came on a week before you.”

“We can ask Littrell!” Kíli said, snapping his fingers, then turned to the rest of the team.  “What about you lot?” 

“I played the sitar growing up in Bangladesh,” Patel said, rolling his eyes.  “But I haven’t played since I was twelve.”

“Didgeridoo,” Rumsey said.

“No you didn’t!” Gale scoffed.  

“Alright, no I didn’t,” Rumsey replied, chuckling.  “Just didn’t want to be left out.”

“Do you play any other instruments?” Gale asked Kíli.

“I…had some instruction on the harp,” Kíli admitted.  “But I didn’t take to it as well as the fiddle.”

“What about the guitar? Or the ukulele? Do you think you could adapt your training?”

“I’d have to see the instrument.”  Kíli eyed Gale.  “What did you have in mind?”

“Just meet some of the day shift guys.  They’re fans of a particular era of Earth music.”

 

So for Kíli’s first few months, the construction of their ship went pretty much by the numbers.  Kíli and Gale airlifted the warp coil assembly within that first week slowly and surely, and using work bees, put each coil in its place in the open nacelle structure.  While they worked on the starboard nacelle assembly the port nacelle’s warp coils were curing in Fabrication on the planetside factory.  Kíli toured that facility and was fascinated by the process whereby which the different layers of materials of the warp coils were placed one on top of another, like a jawbreaker.

 

However, on his off hours, Kíli was getting guitar lessons.  

Ensign Allen Digby played acoustic guitar and every other afternoon between shifts the two sat down and while Kíli understood the basic notion of the fretwork and chords, he found getting the chords into the ‘memory of his fingers’, as Balin once described it, to be rather hard work.  Not to mention the physical strain on his fingers.  But then again, he was Khazad, and working with his hands came naturally.

 

But it wasn’t like there was anything else going on at Utopia.  

 

By the time he mastered all the major chords, his team had sent their ship, christened the _USS Majestic_ , on its way to its shakedown cruise.  Once Kíli explained that he spoke Standard English without the use of a translator, Digby got him started on songs with lyrics, and Kíli’s quarters had sheet music and tab charts almost everywhere.

When Tango-3 began setting up the skeletal structure of their next ship, Digby came over to Kíli’s quarters with a gift.

It was a sleek instrument, with a fiery orange finish to the angular body and a pale stained headstock, which had the name ‘FENDER’ emblazoned on it.  

“What is this monstrosity?” Kíli asked as he tried it out in his lap.  

“We’ve got you on the basics with the acoustic,” Digby said.  “Now it’s time for you to go electric.”

He plugged the guitar into the amplifier, which caused a squawk of feedback.  Kíli winced.  “You humans add technology to the strangest things.  You make your showers sonic and you make your instruments electric…”

“Three centuries, and the electric guitar is _still_ controversial,” Digby chuckled.  “When Dylan went electric, his fans were up in arms, but history marched on.  Hendrix made it wail.  Van Halen played it like a virtuoso.  Steve Vai…I could go on.”

“I’ve been meaning to explore Earth’s music history,” Kíli admitted.  “I didn’t make time for anything other than your orchestral music in the Academy.  With the violin and all, it made more sense.”

“Well, see, that’s only a slice of the whole picture,” Digby explained, gesturing outward.   What kind of music did you enjoy back home?”

Kíli put the guitar down and looked up at the ceiling as he remembered.  “I liked the songs, songs about battles, songs about home, silly songs that we made on the spot while everyone found their place in the melodies and harmonies and…songs were like _family_.”

“Folk music.  Taking us back to Dylan,” Digby said, nodding as he grinned.  “Now, pick up the guitar and strum me a C.”

Kíli complied and the sound growled out of the amplifier.  His eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

“That was…” Kíli breathed.  “Like taming a beast and training it to sing!”

Digby stifled a laugh.  “That’s…that’s one way of putting it,” he conceded.  “Are you ready to find out what this monster can do?”

Kíli looked up from the guitar at Digby with wide eyes.  “Oh yes,” he said.  “But do you have another one I could look at?  I simply must take one apart to find out what makes it roar.”

 

By the end of the year, Kíli had received a crash course in guitar rock of a good chunk of the 20th century.  He was even sitting in on jam sessions with the first shift of Tango-3 band, who were still languishing over a name.

“So I was listening to the archives some more,” KIli told Digby, “And for some reason, I found a string of interesting electric music choices.”

“El…did you mean _electronic_ music choices?” Digby asked.  “Give me an example.”

 

“Well, there was this bloopy kind of sound from this one group, and then there were these four Men dressed alike, and—“

“Electronic.  Of course.  Anything particular stand out?”

“It was a piece called “Popcorn,” Kíli explained.  He took his guitar and picked out the melody.  “It made my head bob from side to side.  That’s pop music, isn’t it?”

“That is traditionally the effect of pop music, yes,” Digby agreed.  “Of course, anything that’s popular is fair game to be targeted and subverted, turned into something ironic, dark, dramatic.  That’s more the domain of your instrument.  What do you think?”

Kíli just grinned and crunched some chords.

By the time the next ship’s skeletal struts were complete for the primary hull, Tango-3 began to innervate the ship with its optical data nets and vascularize it with its plasma transfer conduit.  The main computer would be brought from another site soon, and the warp coil material would be created.  

And now, Kíli was beginning to try out the bass guitar.  To that end, Digby introduced him to different artists of the past.  The Nile Rogerses.  The Fleas.  The Bootsy Collinses.  

It was time for Kíli to get funky.

 

It was about at the midpoint of their current progress when Rumsey pulled Kíli aside along with the personnel commander, and someone else.  It was a human woman, with similar handsome middle-aged features, but hair that was shorter than Kaitlin Reid’s.

“Ensign, Lieutenant Rumsey has nothing but complements on your contributions to Tango-3,” the PC said.

“Thank you, sir.  Most kind,” Kíli replied, while eyeing a beaming Rumsey.  What was going on?

“This is Dr. Carol Marcus,” the PC said, and she smiled and nodded.  “She’s working on a rather unorthodox project which needs the Corps of Engineers to set up its next phase.”

Kíli nodded.  

“Mister Kíli, you told me that your people are known for mining and tunneling through mountains,” the PC continued.

“Yes sir, though my expertise is rather in crafting—“

“Do you think you’re up to the challenge of hollowing out a section of a planetoid?”

Kíli’s nose crinkled.  “Sir?”

“It’s called Regula.  It’s out in the Mutara sector, and it looks to be a rather ambitious operation.  We sought you out because of your background.  What do you say?”

Kíli looked at Rumsey, who nodded.  “This gets you a rather unorthodox in at the SCE, mate.  I think Tango-3 can do without you for a few months.”

“Well, then…yes!”  Kíli said, and Marcus extended her hand.  

“Welcome to the team, Ensign,” she said, and he took it.

“The _Starship Reliant_ is working with Dr. Marcus and will take you and the rest of the team to Regula,” The PC said.  “There you’ll meet with the Genesis team and go from there.”

 

“I believe that one more of Tango-3 is going to Regula,” the PC remarked.  “I believe you know her—Ensign Morrisson?”

_Good_ , Kíli thought.  _Tandy and I can stick together._   “Yes, sir,” he replied. “She’ll make a good addition to your team.”

Dr. Marcus nodded.  “I think you’ll like what we’re cooking up, Mr. Kíli,” she told him.  “If we’re right, it’ll change _everything_.”


	3. Regula

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Kíli goes forth to participate in a secret Federation project, he finds that he's brought his past with him as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has taken a long time to finish. Mad work hours (which led to a raise, so no hate) and work on my apartment had slowed writing this to a crawl. Thanks to those who'd subscribed!

“I never met Riley,” the man with the accent told Kíli.  “He vas transferred off the _Enterprise_ shortly after Kodos was killed.  Poor soul.”

“I’d heard,” Kíli said solemnly.  Kíli had reported to the first officer of the _USS Reliant_ shortly after the _Miranda-class_ ship shoved off from Mars to deep space.  The stars streaked past them through the window of the officer’s lounge where the two sat down.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” a deep voice said from behind Kíli said as Captain Clark Terrell sat down with Kíli and Commander Pavel Chekov.  

“Not at all, Keptin,” Chekov said.  Kíli was amused by the boyish visage that Chekov still seemed to maintain in his late thirties.  He was glad that his beard had filled in at last so that he was able to avoid the same fate.  

Not that anyone other than his own kind would notice.

“Ensign,” Terell began, “You haven’t served on a starship yet, is that right?” 

“No, sir,” Kíli replied.  “I’ve spent a good part of the year at the fleet yards, though.  I never expected to be a shipbuilder.”

“What did you think?” Terrell asked.

“I enjoy the work,” Kíli replied.  “Working with my hands and make something.  That’s something that’s very satisfying among my people.”

“Have you had a chance to find out what it is you are doing at Regula?” Chekov asked.

“I haven’t been briefed on Dr. Marcus’ project, but I suspect it’s above my clearance.  I really am just out of the Academy after all.”

“At the tender age of eighty-one,” Terrell noted.  “I take it your species is longer-lived than humans.”

“A bit.  However, if it makes you feel better, for my species I am the correct age for an Academy graduate.”

“If only everyone could have the opportunity to have such a leisurely youth,” Chekov opined.  

 

Kíli shrugged.  

“Doctor Marcus prefers to brief team members personally.” Terrell explained. “This project is still quite a secret, and a matter of utmost security.  If the Romulans or Klingons found out, there’d be an uproar.”

“Until then…” Chekov paused.  “Would you like to take a shift on the bridge?  Engineering?”

“We built the _Majestic_ and sent her on her way earlier this year,’ Kíli said.  “It’d be interesting to actually run a ship instead of test it.”

“All right,” Terrell said.  “I’ll let Commander Masters know she has another team member for the duration.”

 

Kíli found an engine room that was bustling with activity around the warp core of the _Reliant_.  Plasma patterns swirled with pastel beauty within the transparent structure in the center of the room while the plasma transfer conduits branched left and right out toward the warp nacelles.  

Lieutenant Commander Charlene Masters beamed when Kíli reported in Engineering.  “Welcome to Alpha Shift, Ensign.  I’m gonna have you monitor the intermix flow sensors while we calibrate the reaction rate.”

“No problem,” Kíli said and took the console.  “Looks like you’re running at a ratio of 1.0035 to one.”

“That’s right,” Masters drawled.  “I like a little lead-off on the deuterium side so we can slam an extra bit of speed into the engines if we need.”

“That’s a nice trick,” Kíli said, “But how do you keep the dilithium lattice structure from getting gummed up in the process?” 

“That’s easy,” Masters replied.  “We occasionally flash the chamber with an extra burst of antimatter through the chamber to fry it out.  In fact, I’ve incorporated it into our monthly routine.”

Kíli nodded.  “I’ll have to let my team leader at Utopia know about that one.  He always likes to hear the engineering anecdotes so we can keep revising the specs on various ship classes.”

“He sounds pretty open-minded for a shipbuilder,” Masters said, before bellowing, “Tien!  I told you to keep the main-stage flux chillers on standby!”

“Sorry,” the distant voice of Tien called out.

“It’s been my experience that the designers and builders are very protective of their ships in the yards, and don’t take well to us in the field mucking about with their intended designs,” Masters explained to Kíli.

“The design teams have enough ire to go ‘round to the builders as well,” Kíli confided.  “Whenever they visit our platform, they fuss and fuss that their designs are being messed with whenever we need to do a workaround.  Usually because _they_ don’t cross a ’t’,” He said.

Masters laughed.  It was a light, clear laugh, which didn’t seem to fit Masters’ appearance, especially in her engineering radsuit.  “Well, then I guess we’re in the same boat, Ensign.”

“Right.  Sensors still functioning normally, plasma flow equal to both nacelles.”

“Thank you,” Masters said, tapping at her console.  “Another few percentage points and I’d say we’re ready to rev her up to warp six to Regula.”

 

  “Well,”  Kíli said, looking over to her over his shoulder, “If you want, I can show you a little trick we figured out at Utopia building these.”

“Yeah?” Masters’s smile crept up her face

“Yeah, here,” Kíli moved to her console in front of the intermix chamber and tapped at it.  “If you really want her to go when you want, you want to set your mix like this,” and he showed her on the screen.  “They picked up on this at the yards—my team, Tango-3,” he explained.  “And when we were putting the Majestic together, they showed me when I was testing the warp geometry of the warp coils.”

“Wow,” Masters said.  “You’re a lot more savvy about warp systems than your average Ensign.”

“Well, I had to cover a lot more ground than your average cadet when I started,” Kíli explained.  “And I’m a bit older than I look.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what,” Masters said.  “On our trip out, I’m going to run this configuration through the simulator, and then run it by Captain Terrell.  But this should stick.”

Kíli looked at Masters over his shoulder and beamed. “Happy to help.”

 

Kíli and Tandy were beamed over to Space Station Regula I two days later.  

The reception wasn’t quite what they expected.  

Scientists in beige and pastel work outfits scurried around them as they hunched and un-hunched over consoles and displays.  As they started to wander away from their beam-in point, at least one team member almost collided into Kíli, stared blankly, then mumbled an apology and scurried away again.  

“Did I miss part of the brief?” Tandy asked Kíli.  “I thought the rest of the SCE team would be here?”

“Maybe the _Ive’s_ running behind,” Kíli suggested.  “We should look for Dr. Marcus so we can maybe set down or find out when the rest of the team gets here.”  He put his carry-on down by a door that had “THERMOPLASTICS” emblazoned on it. Tandy did the same.

“Hey,” a voice said.  Kíli looked up to see a young human glaring at them. He looked to be in his early-to-mid twenties and had a short mop of curly blond hair.  He had an annoyed look on his face.  “Pick up your things and follow me.”

Kíli shrugged at Tandy and they followed.

“I didn’t get your name,” Kíli began.

“The rest of the SCE team was delayed,” the young man said.  “The _USS Ive’ll_ be here in about six hours.  Then you can do your thing and _we_ can get started.”

The turbo lift to the living quarters was silent and awkward.  Tandy had an expression on her face that was parts annoyance and parts amusement at their guide.

When they got to the level, they were greeted by Carol Marcus, wearing a beige work smock.  She smiled warmly as she approached them.  “I’m sorry for the confusion, we just got the com-pic from the _Ive_ this morning ourselves,” She explained.  “In the meantime, we have some temporary quarters—you’ll have to bunk up, though.  Our space is limited.  David, were you going to show them—?”

“Yes,” David grumbled.

“Good,” Carol replied, nodding.

“Ah, so the young lad _has_ a name,” Kíli said, sticking a look onto David.  

“David, you didn’t…?” Carol looked slightly embarrassed.  “Ensigns Kíli, Morrisson, this is Dr. David Marcus, My project co-founder…and my _son_.”

Tandy cocked her head toward the young scientist.  “ _That_ David Marcus?  I read the paper you published last year on protomatter.  I cited it for my dissertation.  It raised quite a bit of controversy.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t agree with a lot of mainstream views on the subject,” David said, not quite meeting Tandy’s gaze.  “And I have a good idea what Starfleet thinks about protomatter, anyway.”

“Well, what does _that_ mean?” Tandy asked, partly curious, partly taken aback.

“It means we should get you to your room,” Carol said, glaring at David.  “And perhaps _change the subject_ for now.”

Kíli sighed and shook his head.  Family was family, regardless of the planet, regardless the species.

Tandy and Kíli used the downtime to nap and to take a small meal.  Nearly six hours to the minute the door to their temporary quarters opened, revealing a tall, gaunt man with short-cropped dark hair and mischievous blue eyes.  “There’s our last two missing sheep, then, _hein_?” he said with an accented voice.  

The two looked up at him and stood to attention.  “Captain LeBeau?” Tandy asked.

“The same.  I’m glad you glanced over your mission briefs a little.  Captain Maurice LeBeau, to be precise.”  He took a step into the room.  “I’d like to take this moment to thank you two for volunteering your time away from Utopia Planitia.  From your superiors’ reports, you two seemed to be enjoying yourselves.”

Tandy and Kíli looked at each other, back to LeBeau and nodded.  “All the same, Dr. Marcus’s offer seemed like quite an opportunity,” Tandy replied.

“Quite so.  Has Dr. Marcus been able to brief the two of you on Project Genesis?”

 

“No,” Kíli replied.  “However, what little I’ve gleaned suggests it’s rather a large deal.”

LeBeau merely smiled.  “Follow me.”

The two followed him down the various sections of the space laboratory, as the science teams went about their work.  “Mister Kíli,” LeBeau began, “Your file shows that you are a native of the planet Arda, of the Khazad species.”

“That’s correct,” Kíli replied. 

“Because of that, your security clearance is automatically higher than your usual Academy grad,” LeBeau said.  Before Tandy could inquire why that was, LeBeau continued, “As such, you will not need to be chaperoned in your brief on the project as Ensign Morrison will unfortunately be.”

He led Kíli into the room with Carol and David Marcus, their assistant, Jedda, and two other techs.  

“If you’ll go ahead and submit to the security scan, we can begin,” LeBeau told Kíli.  

Once Kíli’s identity was confirmed with the retina scan, Carol began.  

“Genesis is, in all aspects, a project to create life from lifelessness,” Carol said as a graphic came up behind her.

“Molecular structure is put through our Genesis matrix, arranged at the subatomic level turning inert materials into that which gives life-producing result.  Stage one of this project has been completed in our laboratory on Earth.  Stage two will involve recreating the effect deep within Regula.  That’s where you and your SCE team will come in.  We need a large enough space to create an underground cave in which we will unleash the Genesis Wave and gauge the results.  If this stage is successful we will go on to stage three.  A lifeless space body will serve as the testbed for the Genesis Device, which will be transformed on a planetary scale.”

Kíli’s mouth was agape as the demonstration video depicted the transformation of a rocky moon into a lush, Earth-like world.  

“The applications for this technology are self-evident; The act of terraforming worlds within the federation will take months instead of decades.  The problems of supplying enough food and provisions to outlying colonies will disappear.”  

Kíli took a moment to take in what he had just been told.  David and Carol were waiting for the inevitable.  Most Starfleet officers who were briefed on Genesis were concerned that it could be weaponized, due to its effect erasing life existing on worlds already inhabited.

 

Kíli, however, was hungry.

 

“This is very impressive on a planetary scale,” Kíli said.  “Have you thought about applying the technology to something…smaller?”

“I beg your pardon?” Carol asked, beginning to smile.

“Food slots are crap,” Kíli proclaimed, causing Captain LeBeau to stifle a laugh.  “But if you could create specific foods in the same way—by rearranging the molecular structure into a specific pattern—then you’d simply have to keep generic matter in bulk and have the device replicate whatever patterns were stored in the computer.”

David scoffed.  “All that this can do, and you want to turn it into a food slot?”

“When I was studying Earth history,” Kíli began, “I read about how sailors would suffer a disease called scurvy, which was caused by a vitamin deficiency.  When they started keeping citrus fruits in their stores, scurvy cases lowered.  They eventually made a connection between keeping well at sea and good nutrition.  Now, our food slots are certainly vitamin-fortified, but… _gyahh_. I’d rather eat something that’s a closer facsimile of meat than what we have now.”

“I think we’re on the same wavelength, if not _quite_ on the same scale,” Carol said amusedly.  

“The first step in carving out this space is the most crucial,” LeBeau said.  “We can transport out a small section of the planetoid, But then we have to put a man in there in a suit to begin to expand that out.  We’ve found the most stable part of Regula’s lower crust, but time is of the essence to begin hollowing out that area in time to set up our structural integrity field.”

“Right, before the pressure of the crust begins deforming and squeezing the empty space,” Kíli finished.  

“So that’s why you’re going to be going in first,” LeBeau said.  You’ll be in a pressure suit and you’ll carve the first fifty or so cubic meters out before we go in as a team.”

Kíli frowned.  This wasn’t unfamiliar to him.  What seemed like a lifetime ago, Bofur had told him about the prospects of finding new veins of one particular metal or other and starting a shaft and beginning the mining process.  

This felt altogether new, however.  

“Don’t worry, there’s gonna be a transporter lock on you at all times,” LeBeau reassured him.  “Regula I is going to have the range to transport people and material to this location so we’ll operate from the station instead of the _Ive_.”

David rolled his eyes, as Carol looked on impassively.

Kíli nodded.  “All right.”

 

 

As Captain LeBeau and Kíli exited the briefing room, Kíli looked up at the human.  “Captain, can I ask a question?”

LeBeau considered and nodded.  “Go ahead.”

“Is it true that you have special powers?”

“Ha ha!” LeBeau’s laugh rang through the corridor.  “Special is relative, Ensign.  But I do possess extra genetic abilities, yes.”

“And then, is it also true that you once—purely by accident—“ Kíli held his hands up, to warn against offense— “Switched the bodies of Kaitlin Reid and Rott Ag’ta?”

There was a short silence, while the Captain considered his words.  “They told that story, did they?” LeBeau asked.

Kíli nodded.  “On the _Hanson_ , before I enrolled in the Academy.”

“Well, Ensign Kíli,” LeBeau said, “There’s lots of adventures on the _Medea_ that fiction could not _dream_ up.  And if you’re lucky, myself, Kaitlin and Rott will write a book about some of them.”  His smile faded.  “But it’s not going to be today.”

Kíli gulped.  “Yes, sir.”

 

 

Two other members of the SCE team arrived the next day with Tandy joining them.  Kíli was being fitted for his pressure suit, sized a little smaller of course.  

“We haven’t had to use a suit this size since…” one of the techs started.

“…Commander Keenser,” the other finished, and they shared a knowing smile.  

“Well, I’m sure I’m in fine company,” Kíli said, and laughed nervously.

 

“Not too worried, are you?” LeBeau asked, walking up to the group.  “I was told that your race were miners by trade.”

“Some of us, yes, but like I keep saying, I was never a miner myself,” Kíli said.  “Smithing and crafting was my and my brother’s specialty.”

“You’ll do fine,” LeBeau reassured Kíli.  “We’re all going to be here as your support.  The comm line will be open, and there’s a consistent transporter lock on you.  All you have to do is make the hole a little bigger, and then we’ll come in and start.  And the sooner we start, the better, because this is going to take a long time.”

“How long?” Kíli asked.

“Our estimates say about sixteen months,” LeBeau replied with a grimace.

Kíli slumped.  “That’s a long time away from Utopia,” he sighed.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.  With a project like this, you’ll be rotated back to Utopia in a third of that time.  Back in time for the holidays, if we can stay on task.”

“Okay.”  And with that, the Khazad stood up straighter and grabbed his gear.  “Let’s go.”

LeBeau turned to the transporter tech, who was conferring with one of the Genesis techs.  “We’ve locked on to our starter block…now,” he reported.

“Energize and disperse,” LeBeau ordered.

“Energizing,” the transporter tech replied.  He frowned.  “We got some veins of some heavier metals.  He’ll have to adjust his tunneling phaser to compensate down there.”

Kíli frowned.  “Like what?”

LeBeau waved it off.  “Probably iron or lead or something like that.  There’s not much in the way of value in this planetoid.”

“The initial incision has been transported out and has been dispersed into space,” The tech reported.  “Ensign?”

Kíli took a gulp of the recycled air inside his helmet and grabbed his gear.  He stepped on the transporter pad.

“Now remember, Regula’s gravity is .54 gee,” LeBeau reminded him.  “Somewhere between the Moon and Mars.  If you can use that to your advantage, do so.”

Kíli nodded, and turned his helmet lamp on.  “I’m ready.”

LeBeau turned to the tech and said, “Energize.”

 

Kíli found himself inside a spherical space, roughly about five feet out from any direction from himself.  The surface was smooth, and he could make out some striation of the rocky strata of the planetoid.  

“I’ve transported successfully,” he reported.  “Proceeding to make the first expansion.”

He took the tunneling phaser device with both hands and triggered it in front of him.  The beam slowly issued forth, and the protective lens of his helmet darkened.  After thirty seconds, he stopped to check the progress.

“The rock is fairly consistent in in composition.  I’ve expanded about three meters outward.  I’m continuing on.”

 

Back on the station LeBeau was smiling at the techs.  “Just as we surveyed.  This is going right on—“

Kíli’s voice moaned through the comm.

 

_“No.  No, nonononononononononono—“_

 

“Captain, Ensign Kíli’s vitals are spiking!”  A medical tech told him, while all the while Kíli’s voice over the comm became more and more frantic and desperate.

 

_“I can’t…no—Beam me back!  Beam me back beam me back BEAM ME!!!!”_

 

“Yank him back!  Beta team, suit up!” LeBeau barked.  

“Energizing!” The transporter tech replied.

Kíli reappeared on the pad on his knees, his hands covering his helmet lens.  “No…I can’t.  Not me.  Not _me_.”

LeBeau sprinted to the transporter pad and knelt down to face Kíli, putting his hands on the Khazad.  “Ensign, are you all right? What happened?”  he asked.  Concern softened his hard-etched features.  

The Med tech ran his tricorder over the Khazad.  “He’s exhibiting the signs of a panic attack.  No signs of poisoning or infection.  We’ll give him a tranq and let him relax.”

“Kíli.  Kíli, look at me,” LeBeau took Kíli’s hands and pulled him back onto his feet.

Kíli’s voice wavered.  “I saw…I saw _gold_.”

 

***

 

“It was a vein of gold, all right,” Tandy reported to LeBeau.  “It was a large one, too.”

LeBeau looked concerned and asked, not exactly to Tandy, “Why would a man from a race of craftsmen and miners fear a vein of gold?” 

Tandy frowned and looked away.

“Ensign, I’m not about to just discard a talented young officer because of an unfortunate incident.  If you know what caused his panic attack, you need to tell me.”

“It has to do with his family history, sir,” Tandy said.  “He said something about something called gold sickness.”

LeBeau frowned.  “All right.  I want him back on the team as soon as he can.  What would you suggest?”

“With all due respect, Captain, get a hold of his brother on the com-pic. In addition to being a Starfleet officer, he’s also training to be a doctor.”

 

 

The tunneling continued without Kíli.  He was assigned support duty, and sullenly carried out his duties.  

A week passed.  The project in general made excellent progress and Kíli was once again monitoring the team’s tunneling progress from the space laboratory.  David Marcus caught him yawning and stretching at his station.

“Keeping busy?” he quipped.

Kíli mumbled a vague reply.

“What’s that?” David asked.

“I said,” Kíli said pointedly,  “I’m going nowhere fast.”  He and the young scientist had never quite gotten on; Kíli thought David arrogant and presumptuous, especially about Starfleet.  He was a self-proclaimed pacifist, which Kíli found surprising, considering who his grandfather was.  

“So what’s the problem?”

“That accursed gold,” Kíli mumbled.

“That’s not terribly Starfleet, is it?” David said.  “I thought you military types were all about facing your fears.”

Kíli turned to David, his eyes slits.  “‘Military types’?”

“Yeah,” David affirmed, sipping at the drink in his hand.  

“Is that what Starfleet is to you?” Kíli asked, chuckling, the laughter not quite reaching his glaring eyes.  “An army?  A navy?”

“You’re the ones with the photon torpedoes and the phaser banks, pal,” David replied.

Kíli put his hands on his console, shaking his head.  “You think you know what an army is?  These technological marvels flying through the stars?”

“You got another perspective, I’d like to hear it,” David said, taking another sip.

 

There was a battle—some thirty or so years ago—out by a pair of binary stars,” Kíli said.  “Federation versus Klingons.  I learned about this at the Academy because—anyway.  There was another battle, closer to the heart of my kin.  Azanulbizar.  My great-grandfather killed, his body defiled.  Thousands dead.”  He chuckled as he saw David’s cup lower, its contents forgotten.  “They were burned in pyres, to keep their bodies from being plundered!”  

“I-I don’t know what to say,” David stammered.  

“That was the battle before I was born,” Kíli continued.  “The one that killed me?  I don’t know what they’re calling that one, but there was more than two armies.  Call it a rematch.”

“Killed you?” David asked.

“Yup,” Kíli affirmed.  

“And you got revived soon after,” David surmised.  “My God…”

“So you see, when you say ‘Starfleet’ and ‘Military’ like they’re the exact same thing, It simply doesn’t scan.  I’ve seen real armies and real battles and real war and death and horror, more than two dozen starships tussling around a binary system could possibly generate.  You remember that, boy.”

“There’s something you’ve seemed to forgotten, Ensign,” David countered.  “Warfare is always looking for simpler, faster, and less messy ways to kill.  That death and horror is a cost that no side wants to pay, so they replace the bomb with the atom bomb.  The atom bomb with the neutron bomb.  The artillery with the phaser and the missile with the photon torpedo.  Do you think I don’t know who my grandfather is?”

Now it was Kíli’s turn to be taken aback.

“And maybe you’re too busy feeling sorry for yourself or dreaming of a better food slot, but what we’re working on could be used to be the next deadliest weapon down the line.  What do you think happens where we use the Genesis Device?”

“I…”

“And what happens where life already exists?”  

Kíli stopped for a moment.  “By Mahal.  It alters the matter on the space body, regardless of what’s on it.  It’s a bomb.”

“The most insidious bomb,” David agreed.  “Your great-grandfather’s armies—if they had access to this, do you think they would resist using it to utterly eliminate the other side?

Kíli looked down.  He quietly answered, “No.”

“So do you see why I don’t completely trust you guys?” David asked.  

“But—“

“For all of your best intentions, temptation will always be there,” David said.  “And with the other guys, If they knew about this, they’d covet it to the ends of the universe.  You seem like a good guy, Kíli.  But I can’t trust that a good guy will always keep his hands off the big red button.”  He took one last sip from his cup.  “Good luck with that gold thing.”

 

As David sauntered away, his console beeped.  “Ensign Kíli, there’s a com-pic for you.  It’s your brother.”

Kíli excused himself to use the private communications suite that was outside the main lab.  He plopped himself into the seat and switched the screen on.  

Fili’s hair had begun to grow out a bit, but still not long enough to do more than to tie it back professionally.  His mustache was still not braided but it was waxed and curled for ironic effect.

“Kee,” he said, smiling warmly.  “How’re you holding up?”

“Oh, you know,” Kíli replied looking away for a moment.  

“Yeah, I _do_ know.  So what’s this about you being sidelined?”

Kíli shook his head and gazed at the screen. “I froze up, Fee.  There was a brilliant vein of gold in this planetoid and I just…panicked.  I had to be yanked back.  It was ridiculous.”

Fili’s face on the screen frowned and pushed in. “You’re damned right it was.  Kee, it’s not the gold.  And it’s not you.  Not one hundred percent.  So we’re going to get you back on that tunneling mission.”

“What do you mean?”

“Gold doesn’t make you sick, Kee.  Not the element gold, anyway.   I ran experiments on myself between clinicals to figure it out.”

“Then what is it?” Kíli asked, growing exasperated.  

“Our family has a genetic predisposition toward certain mental illnesses, including bipolar one disorder.  Hundreds of years ago on Earth, they treated the symptoms with medications and therapy, but that process has gotten to the point where they can well cure it…with better medications and therapy because that’s the way the brain works.  But, see, it was never completely that either.  You’ll love this.”

Kíli frowned.

“Like I said, our brains don’t react toward the element gold, but a certain mineral compound bonded to the gold, something they call mediterranium, has certain properties that will trigger mental events.  I’ve scanned the mail in the outfits we arrived in, and the stuff shines like a diamond when you scan for the stuff.  Now if it’s in all the treasure in Erebor, that sheer amount will exacerbate an existing mental condition in an individual.  Like Thror.  Like _Indâd_.

“But what about—?” Kíli began

“Well it must skip a generation because I can’t find the gene and the odds are in your favor for being clean as well.”  Fili peered into the screen at Kíli.  “Okay?  Do you get it?”

“Okay,” Kíli replied.  “So how’re you holding up?”

“So far, so good,” Fili replied.  “First year finals are coming up, so your Captain LeBeau really had to scrape me off of my studies to give you this pep talk.  So go down there and remember: Fear no thing that glitters.  _Khazâsh_ out.”

And with a burst of static and video de-tracking, Fili was gone.

 

Kíli beamed onto the _Ive_ and marched into Captain LeBeau’s ready room.  To his credit, Maurice had a feeling he’d be showing up once he’d talked to Fili.

“Something on your mind, Ensign?” he asked.  

“Permission to be reassigned to the tunneling mission,” He said sharply.  “Sir.”

LeBeau smiled and nodded.  “Permission granted.”

Kíli relaxed a bit and gestured outwardly with his hands.  “I’m back.”

“It’s good to have you back.  There was a small pool as to how long you’d stay away between Ensign Morrison and the other team members.  Looks like Tandy won.”

Kíli turned crimson, but his smile remained.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what was it you thought you had?  What is gold sickness?”

“A lot of things rolled into one.  Paranoia, depression, mania, and avarice.  Sir, where I come from, I’m…I’m titled.  It doesn’t mean anything out here, but back there, I held a title.  You worry that the mistakes of the past get passed down onto you, whether you like it or not.  Things seem inevitable.”

“Yeah, I know something about that.  You know who my ancestor is, right?”

Kíli brightened.  “You’re descended from Lisette!”

“That’s right.  And while upholding and safekeeping that legacy is more Kaitlin’s thing, it still weighs on you.  That reminds me…I found this in the archives and I thought you and your brother might appreciate looking.”

LeBeau beckoned Kíli to the desk as he rummaged through a small box filled with photographs.  “There they are.  Photos taken during the peace mission to Cain, 2151”

Kíli saw the old blue Starfleet coveralls and gasped to see the elf Glorfindel among them, as well as the dapper old gentleman in the gray suit as well.  Gandalf before he was The Admiral.

And in the lower corner, he saw a face he would recognize anywhere.  The nose gave it away.  His hair was brown but still had the parted beard.  He looked anything but happy.

“By Mahal, it’s Balin,” Kíli breathed.  

“The blond guy is Joshua Maurice, and the middle-aged fella is Adam the Second,” Maurice explained.  “Mister Grey, as he was known back then, snagged them for this mission, despite the fact that Commodore Reid hadn’t left the solar system his entire life.”

“What did Balin do on this mission?” Kíli asked.  “Did he help broker a deal between the Cainians and the Thunderans?”

“According to Joshua Maurice, he complained about the food.  Loudly,” LeBeau replied, chuckling.  “Afterwards, he stayed on Earth for nearly twenty years before returning home.”

“He was adamant that the world we lived in could be better,” Kíli said.  “He was witness to the birth of the Federation amidst the ashes of the Romulan War.  And he told a precious few at Ered Luin.  Kept it in the family, which happened to be the Line of Durin.  Imagine a royal family that knew of the existence of extraterrestrials, and sworn to secrecy?”

“So I’ve already assigned you to Alpha Team, with your friend Tandy,” LeBeau said.  “Report to Regula I at 0600.”

“Yes sir,” Kíli said, and left LeBeau’s ready room.

 

Kíli was rotated off of the project five months in, as LeBeau planned. And, thanks to Khazad specialty in offloading the matter out of the Genesis Cave, projections for the project completion were shaved back to eleven months instead of sixteen.  Captain LeBeau was very happy.

 Both Kíli and Tandy were due to be returned to Utopia Planita shortly thereafter.  Kíli, however was left unsatisfied.

“What troubles you, Kee?” he was asked by Captain LeBeau.  The _Reliant_ had returned to ferry them back to the Sol system, and Kíli had his bag slung over his shoulder.  And Kíli had his expression plain on his face.

“It’s just…” Kíli explained, “It’s just that I won’t get to find out how it turns out.”

“Well, that’s not exactly true,” LeBeau replied.  “With your security clearance, you have access to Project Genesis’ ongoing progress.  Why, you could ring up Dr. Marcus—either of them—and have a conversation whenever you’d like.”

As Kíli thought on that, and a smile crept on his features, LeBeau added, “With your talents, Ensign, you can write your own ticket in Starfleet.  I happen to know that the _Yorktown_ could use another staff engineer.”

“Sir, I couldn’t ask you to do a favor like that for me.  Not after that faceplant I pulled early on.”

“Too late,” LeBeau said.  “Commander Masters of the _Reliant_ already put in the word for me and you.  Captain Randolph said he’d give you a call when he was back in port.  It may be a little premature to say, but you might be looking at a promotion to Lieutenant, Ensign.”

“But sir—“

“Kíli!” LeBeau admonished.  “Fear doesn’t disqualify us from achievement.  Our conquest of those fears are what make those achievements possible.  We don’t judge you for them, but how you went forward in resolving them instead.  So take the compliment, and for God’s sake, take the reward.  You’ve earned it.”

Kíli nodded.  “Thank you sir.”  He then added.  “If I happen to see Commander Reid when I get back, was there any message you wanted to convey?”

Maurice thought for a moment and nodded.  “Give her my compliments,” He said.  “And tell her to stop telling tales out of school in front of junior officers.”


	4. Yorktown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of a Starfleet tragedy (The end of Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan) Kili must be there for his friends who are hurting. He also makes a realization.

Bad news travels faster than warp speed.

 

If Kíli were alive at the time, he would have found that the outpouring of grief and sympathy for the King Under The Mountain and his two heirs traveled faster than horses, faster than eagles.  From Cirdan at the Grey Havens, who had at one point held a friendship with a Durin in the past, to the distant Coastal Dwarves of the once-lost Southeast Shores.  That Múki I, in his pearl-studded raiments, gave his respects with the treasures of his domain.

 

 

 

As it was, Kíli received news of the creation of the Genesis Planet as part of his participation in its third phase.  He was a Lieutenant (JG) now, and a junior engineer on the _USS Yorktown_.  

It was also when he found out that Captain Spock had been killed during the incident as well.

He’d been saddened by the news, of course, but now his thoughts were focused on his friend Saavik.  Spock was her mentor, almost a father figure.  He’d once asked Saavik why Spock had taken an interest in her as an orphan from Hellguard, and she’d simply replied that his parents had done a similar favor for another orphan in the past, and spoke no more.  

And, of course, his thoughts went out to the people back home that had mourned him.  His mother in particular.  As each year went on, he began and subsequently stopped writing a letter to his mother, explaining how he and Fíli were alive and doing well in Starfleet.  But each time he stopped, worrying that the cruelty of letting a mother know her children had essentially faked their deaths would be too much for both her to take and himself to perpetuate.  

It tugged at him every time he began the maintenance of a ship’s system on the _Yorktown_ , every level-one diagnostic, every dilithium realignment, every check of the power transfer conduit.  Everything that he became adept at in maintaining a starship reminded him that once he was Kíli of the Line of Durin, part of a family that could trace its lineage back thousands of years.  And though he now flew higher, he was, somehow, lesser.

 

 _What am I_ now _?_ he asked himself.  _Just another voice in the choir.  Another star in the sky._

 

When the _Enterprise_ had rendezvoused with the _Yorktown_ , Kíli didn’t have the opportunity to speak to Dr. McCoy, who had helped to revive himself and Fíli nearly seven years ago.  Or Commander Uhura for that matter.  He didn’t have a chance to properly give his regrets to the comrade they’d lost.

But then there was Saavik.

When they were face-to-face, there was something different about her.  The face of grief on his usually placid friend.  She wore her hair down, differently than when he last saw her.  She didn’t meet his gaze.

He quietly, patiently took her hand in his and looked up at her.  

“I grieve with thee,” he said, quietly.

To her Vulcan credit, her face remained impassive as she looked down at Kíli and replied, “Thank you.”

“What happens next?” Kíli asked her.  

“I’ve been assigned to the science team to study Genesis,” She replied.  

Kíli considered, and nodded.  As he did, he saw a familiar face insinuate itself behind Saavik. He had blond curly hair and smiled at Kíli.  “She’s not going alone, Lieutenant, don’t worry.

“Doctor Marcus!” Kíli exclaimed.  “Well, you must be over the moon with the new planet you had a hand in making.”

“Yes, well,” David Marcus said, his smile fading.  “It’s something worth studying.  We’ll be transferring to the science vessel _Grissom_.” 

“Well, if you happen to see their comm officer, tell Martino I said hello,” Kíli told him.  He gave Saavik’s hand one last squeeze before disengaging.  “Send me a com-pic any time,” he said, quietly.  

Saavik nodded, and she and David continued on their way down the corridor.

 

 

So it also happened that the _Yorktown_ had taken on some of the surviving crew of the _USS Reliant_ as well as some other personnel.

 

Charlene Masters had recommended Kíli for transfer to the _Yorktown_ , and when Kíli had seen her in the _Yorktown_ sickbay, his face brightened at first.  

But the light that had shone in her face when he first met her on the Reliant had diminished.

“Commander,” He called out around the Yorktown’s chief surgeon.

“Not now, Lieutenant,” Dr. Thaddeus Wright grumbled.  The ship’s surgeon was in his 60’s, and his jowls and receding wispy hairline gave him the visage of a grumpy bulldog. He typically eschewed the structured Starfleet officer’s jacket for the more forgiving white lab jacket in his sickbay, with a stylized caduceus on the right breast.

“I-It’s all right, doctor,” Masters said.  

“We’ll schedule a session with the cortical stimulator.  Stay off your feet, relax in your quarters,” Wright told her.  “Do not upset or overstimulate her, Lieutenant.  That’s an order.”

Kíli grimaced as Wright turned and tended to his next _Reliant_ patient.  

“Charlene, I’m so—“

“Kíli, no,” Masters sighed.  “I’m not ready.  Soon, I’ll be able to think about the ship I lost, the Captain and the crew mates who were killed.  But please not now.  please?”

He took her hand and smiled sadly.  “I understand.  Can I come ‘round when you’re settled?”

She nodded, and he patted her hand and let go.  

 

He turned to Dr. Wright.  “How many of the _Reliant_ survivors—“

“How many of them were infested with these little bugs?” Wright finished.  “Key officers.  They helped the Augments get the hang of the ship and then they were discarded on Ceti Alpha V.  It’s a miracle they didn’t die of exposure immediately.  I suppose without the Augment leader whispering in their ears they were able to maintain a modicum of agency.”

“But you can repair the damage?”  Kíli’s expression was urgent.

“The physical damage to their cerebral cortex? Sure.  Medical science has gained leaps and bounds in the last few decades with regenerating brain tissue.  The trick is to help them regain function, to restore those neural bridges to get them approximately where they were before.”

Kíli scoffed.  “‘Once you’re changed…’”

Wright sighed.  “The prognosis is _good_ , Lieutenant Kíli.  She, Commanders Kyle and Beach are all in pretty good shape and they did a lot of good in keeping the rest of their shipmates alive.  That’s survival instinct, and we physicians love that in a patient.  Now go.  Let her get her rest.”

 

 

He found himself in the officers’ lounge and peered out toward the large aft windows.  He didn’t understand.  Genesis was supposed to have had such promise.  How could it have gone all wrong?  How many people gave their lives?  How many more were grieving?  He thought about the families of the Regula I team who were just now learning that their loved ones were gone.  He sniffled once, and once more, and bowed his head.

 

“Hey.”

 

He turned to find his friend Ensign Tandy Morrison behind him, offering a weak smile.  He returned it back to her.

“You look like someone kicked your puppy,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.  She too was affected by the emotional fallout.

“Just…” Kíli tried to articulate his feelings.  “This wasn’t even a proper battle.  It all seems so senseless.  What was it all for?”

“In the end?” Tandy shook her head, her honey-colored hair shaking in loose curls around her head.  “Genesis was supposed to be about hope.  It was supposed to be about making life better for everyone.  But it got turned into a weapon for revenge.  And I don’t know if it was worth it.”

“Me neither.”  Kíli looked up at the stars streaking by.  

“That reminds me.  Here.”  She handed him a datapad and he proceeded to read.

“This is an official information embargo,” Kíli said.  “We’re not to discuss Project Genesis or the events that led to the creation of Genesis until the Federation Council rules otherwise.”

“A gag order,” Tandy agreed.  “Fine by me.”

“It’s a shame,” Kíli said.  “All that potential, ruined.”  He looked balefully down at the plate close by.  It came from the food slot.  “I’m _never_ going to get a proper leg of lamb,” he muttered.

 

 

***

 

The _Grissom_ came alongside the _Yorktown_ a few days later.  Kíli was assigned to the transporter room as Saavik and David entered.  

“We came direct from the bridge,” David said to Kíli as he punched in his coordinates.  “Their comm officer asked about you.  Martino, I think you said.”

“Oh,” Kíli said, his voice rising. He turned to Saavik.  “You may recall, he was one of the cadets on the _Enterprise_ cruise Fíli and I first came aboard.”

“He was—?” David turned to Saavik.

“Well now you have something to talk about on the trip back to Genesis,” Kíli said, his puckish smile returning.  “Energizing.”

As Saavik turned to David, Kíli beamed them out.

 

“Lieutenant Kíli, please report to Sickbay,” Dr. Wright’s voice called over the comm.  

Kíli frowned and hit the send key.  “On my way.”

 

Kíli entered sickbay and found Wright in the main exam room.  “Lie down,” He told him.

“Did someone forget to tell me I’m sick?” Kíli joked.

“Not exactly.  Lie down, please.” 

Kíli complied, and the exam screen lit up.

“Is there something specific you’re looking for?” Kíli asked.  

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Wright said.  

Wright walked around Kíli, still supine on the biobed and entered a few figures into the exam computer.  A moment passed, and then another.

“Well?” Kíli asked.

“Huh,” Wright finally said.  “That’s interesting.”

“Am I dying?” Kíli asked.

“Nah,” Wright said.  “But it turns out you might be helping your fellow officers by the virtue of your brain chemistry.  Your species—“

“Khazad,” Kíli interjected.

“Quite so.  The Khazad species seems to have, within your brain case, certain protein chains that might be of benefit to the Ceti Eel victims,” Wright explained.  I want to take a sample, see if I can proliferate the proteins, and turn it into a…call it a neurological salve.”

Kíli craned his neck up from the bed.  “What do you mean?”

“The healing process is painful for the victims,” Wright explained.  “I can provide a stopgap painkiller, but it slows the healing significantly.  This can…bridge that gap.”

Kíli’s brow knit.  “Is this something that’s in all of Dwarrow-kind, or is it just me?”

“As I understand it, Lieutenant, yours is a world of multiple intelligent species.  Now, not to offend your beliefs, but even peoples so discrete would still share a common evolutionary ancestor—“

“Now wait a minute,” Kíli protested.

“—Which means that these protein chains might be prevalent in much of the animal life on your Arda.  Now don’t worry, I’m not gonna tap you like a maple tree.  I’ll take just enough to replicate in my lab and you’ll be on your merry way.  All right?”

“Sure.”  Kíli sat himself up.  “When?”

“I’ll need some time to get my lab ready so, say, 1600 hours. So finish your shift and see me then.”

 

When he returned to sickbay, Dr. Wright wore his white lab coat and beckoned him toward the entrance of the lab.  He had Kíli remove his jacket and moved him toward the decon    section, and as the blue light shone over the dwarf, Dr Wright moved into the lab.  

“All right, come on in and have a seat.”

Kíli sat in the chair in the center and Wright moved around him and tilted it back.  He had a device which he placed over Kíli’s forehead.  

“What’s that do?” Kíli asked.

“This, you’ll be interested to know, is a micro-transporter,” Wright told him.  “This room ties into the ship’s transporter network and has its own little pattern buffer.  This device helps focus the targeting scanners to a target down to the molecular level.”

“Okay…?” Kíli replied, his voice growing unsure.

“This is state-of-the-art,” Wright said, putting a placating hand up.  “A generation ago, we’d have to make do with actual needles and I’d be performing a spinal tap.  This way I can get exactly what I need from your noggin and you won’t feel a thing.  Sound good?”

“All right.”  A thought occurred to Kíli.  “Say, doctor?”

“Hmm?”

“Not that long ago, I had a conversation with my brother—he’s still in medical school—and they’d discovered that our brains had some kind of interaction with a specific…”

“Yes, that mediterranium interaction,” Wright finished.  “You see, when you came aboard, I made a point to look up all the articles on your species so I could put a treatment regimen together for you.  That’s standard procedure for all non-human crew, you see.  Your brother probably didn’t tell you that, but that’ll be part of his training in Bethesda.  There.” He took the micro-transporter device off of Kíli’s forehead.  “All done.”

“How do you—?” Kíli began to ask.

“They did a story for the Starfleet Medicine journal,” Wright explained.  “You come from a unique world with unique circumstances, and it made for an interesting story.  You didn’t know?”

“He never told me!” Kíli said, mostly to himself.  “Never said a word, the old…well, now I have something to pick on him for the next time he calls.”

“To get back to your original question, I’m aware of the reaction of the mediterranium on your mental state.  Similar to the protein chains you contain, the reaction is probably common throughout most of the inhabitants of your world.”

“Huh.”

“And,” Wright added, “The research contends that the connection might even be intentional.  The crystalline form of mediterranium has such an effect on an Ardan brain, the simulations contest, that its possible to store information from the biological to the physical.”

“It could store a living mind?  Like a living computer?” Kíli asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Yes.  Look at this.”  Wright beckoned him to his computer and brought up the article.  “This is a torus of the crystalline form of mediterranium,” He showed him the diagram.  “There’s the structure and it’s plasticity seems to mimic the neural connections.  Now it’s that interaction with a heavy metal element, the crystal and the active neural tissue where the magic seems to happen.”

“Magic?” 

“Well, you know,” Wright waved the notion away.  “And it doesn’t have to be that large a contraption, either—In fact, you could coat a Medi-torus in gold and put it on your finger and no one would be the wiser that you were backing up your brain like a memory bank.”

“Like a gold ring— _OH_.”  Kíli suddenly had a cold feeling travel up his chest.  “Oh wow.  I have to make a call.  Can you transfer that article to my inbox?”

“Of course.  You can study all the data you like, it’s all in there.  Hang on, Kíli…you’ve gone all pale.  Are you feeling all right?”

“It’s fine.  Thank you doctor.”

“No, no, thank you, on behalf of my patients.  I’ll let you know how it works out.”

“Thank you again,” Kíli said, and quickly exited sickbay.

 

He hurried back to his quarters and looked over the paper Wright sent him.  “Seven rings for the Dwarf Lords in their halls of stone,” he muttered.  “And what became of of them.”

He forwarded the article to the Admiral, which did not get an immediate response.  After a moment, a message on screen confirming that it reached his office at Starfleet Command.

 

The Yorktown transferred the Reliant survivors at Starbase 12, and while the ship idled over the planet, Kíli accompanied Dr. Wright as he took Charlene, and Commander Beach and the others to the medical facility where they would finish their therapy.  

It was there that Kíli had his pleasant surprise.

“Kee!” 

He grinned widely and called back, “Fee!”

It was Fíli all right.  He wore a white smock and was assisting the doctors. He broke with them to meet Kíli.

“They told us the Yorktown’d be stopping by,” Fíli said.  His hair was pulled back, but Kíli could tell that there was at least one braid on one side of his head.

“Aye,” Kíli said.  “What are you doing out here?”

“Early internship,” Fíli said.  “Besides, they needed volunteers.”

“I see,” Kíli said, and promptly punched him in the arm.

“OW!” Fíli cried.  “What in Mahal’s name you do that for?”

“That’s for not telling me about the article in Starfleet Medicine,” Kíli said pointedly.  “And for not sending along that information about mediterranium.”

“What?  Are you still on about gold sickness?” Fíli sighed.

“When do you get off duty?” Kíli asked.

“Not that long,” Fíli replied.  “What’s this about?”

“We’ll talk when you’re free.”  With that, Kíli joined his Yorktown group.

 

“That was your brother?” Tandy asked.  

“That’s my brother, the medical student,” Kíli affirmed.  “I don’t think he’s been completely forthcoming about his studies.”

For a moment, he looked over his shoulder back to Fíli, who was talking to an older woman, not too much taller than himself.  If he had a moment more to notice, he’d think that she looked…familiar.  

 

The brothers met for dinner in the starbase commissary that evening.  The both of them were rather starved for food that was more substantial than Starfleet tended to provide.  Although, Kíli pointed out, there was some hope around the corner.

“When the Yorktown goes in for its next refit,” he told his brother, “They’re installing a full kitchen for the officers’ galley.  They’re also making it available for crew to cook their own meals.”

“Excellent!” Fíli said.  “Now what was it you wanted to tell me about?”

“First of all, it turns out that something in my brain chemistry was useful to our chief surgeon.  Something about specific protein chains in my cerebral fluid?”

Fíli nodded while he took a bite from his pork roast.  “Mmm-hm.  It’s prevalent in Dwarves and Men, but not Elves.  Probably because they’re not true natives, and not part of the evolutionary chain.”

“Right.”

“And from that conversation, it went back to the mediterranium discussion.  It’s kind of reassuring, you know?”

“What?” Fíli asked.  Kíli tended to meander when he got excited about a topic.

“It’s not just us who would have suffered from gold sickness.  Anyone would have.”

Fíli looked at Kíli and extended a hand and patted his brother’s.  “Have you heard of a place called Fort Knox?”

“Umm, I don’t think so?” Kíli replied.  His eyebrows raised in the way he did when he didn’t want to admit he didn’t know something.

“Well, centuries ago, it contained the gold reserves of the United States of America, one of the old nation-states on Earth.  It formed part of the basis of their economy for a time.  Anyway, you can tour the facility and see these—see, they didn’t keep their gold in coins or jewelry.”

“No?” 

“No.  Instead they stored it in these great ingots, like this long,” Fíli gestured with his hands the length, about a foot and a half, “And it’s just stacked up like great pyramids in this vault.  In its day it was one of the most secure vaults on the planet!”

“And it’s still there, in a vault, even though the economy of the planet’s gone completely sideways from needing gold?” Kíli asked, grinning.  “By Mahal, the Earthers are a sentimental lot.”

 “Anyway!” Fíli said, putting his point back on track.  “I was allowed to sit inside one of the vaults.  Just sitting in the center of a mountain of gold bullion, just to see what would happen.”

“And nothing happened.” Kíli surmised.

“I fell asleep,” Fíli admitted.  “I napped for three hours before Starfleet Security came to fetch me.  We all had a nice laugh afterwards, but that’s…that’s a story we’re not ready for.”

Kíli cocked his head at that, but he had to press.  “So mediterranium…It’s capable of doing much more than driving the Children of Arda mad, Fee.”

“That research is much more up your alley than it is mine,” Fíli demurred.

“Wright showed me a crystalline diagram of this stuff.  It’s a torus—a ring.  The studies suggest that these crystals can store information.  Not just data, but neural connections.  Brain activity.  Memories, even.”

Fíli frowned.  “We’ve come across instances of living consciousness being stored in receptacles before.  With varying degrees of success.  The thing is, the brain isn’t digital.  It’s not quite analog.  It’s its own kind of wiring and storage.  To have something that can successfully replicate what lies inside would be extraordinary.”

“Even to store one’s memory, or the memory of a community would be a worthy accomplishment,” Kíli argued.  “What if _we’d_ done it?”  

The meal was forgotten.  Fíli leaned forward and scowled.  “What do you mean?”

“The Rings that were forged in Eregion,” Kíli said.  “Given to the heads of the Seven Families.”

“No, Kíli,” Fíli sighed.

“A midi-torus, coated in a conductive metal like gold or copper need only be as large as a finger ring to do the trick!” Kíli exclaimed.  “They could contain not just the knowledge of one Dwarf, but his ancestors as well—a repository of knowledge far better than journals or a scribe’s recordings…can you imagine?”

“Those rings were lost long ago,” Fíli said.  “Four were consumed by dragons— _including Durin’s Ring_ —and the remaining three were taken to Mordor.  Do you understand?”

“But if we can replicate the process, we can keep it away from all that nonsense, we can create computer memory systems that will eliminate hundreds of cubic meters of storage space on starships, we can add thousands of mega quads of data to Memory Alpha with only the minimum of space.  We can let families have the opportunity to store their legacies for generations to come—“

“Kíli, stop.”  Fíli put his hand over Kíli’s and squeezed.  “The things you’re describing are wondrous and honorable goals, Kee.  They would be of great benefit to the Federation.  As they were when the Numenoreans were out here and learning and exploring.  It’s not necessary to make their mistakes to follow their footsteps.  We can strive to do better.  _You_ can do better.”

Kíli sniffed.  “Do you remember—did you attend Gandalf’s guest lecture when he recited Carl Sagan’s “Pale Blue Dot” essay?”

Fíli nodded.  “I did.  I remember it choked me up a little.”

“Everyone at their terminal—every human—had that image that this old space probe took of Earth from beyond the orbit of Neptune.  But not me.  Somehow he gave me a snapshot of Arda from beyond the orbit of Ulmo.  My own personal Pale Blue Dot.”

“I think he did that for everyone, Kee, Fíli said.  “I got that image too.”

“‘That’s it.  That's us’,” Kíli recited. “And I think that was when it all opened up for me.  We think our world is so big and filled with wonder and adventure, but so does every one else.  It’s not about that, I see that now.  It’s about all those Pale Blue Dots, working together, being more than the sum of our little parts.  I want to do that, even after everything with…everything that went wrong.  I still want to help, I still want to contribute.”

Fíli nodded.  “I know.  So do I.  But please, Kee—find another way.”

 

Kíli wondered if someone had told Carol Marcus that in her research—if someone told her to find another way to create life from lifelessness.  If there were moral objections to the Genesis process that could obliterate entire civilizations in favor of a virgin paradise.  He wondered if the forgers of the Great Rings in Eregion knew when they constructed their Devices—which was in truth what they were—knew what they were making and what the consequences would be.  Who told _them_ to find another way?

 

What if _nobody_ did?

 

“I should still study this,” Kíli said.  “What if this is something we need to study…to stop?”

“I don’t think I can stop _you_ ,” Fíli sighed.  “Be careful, _Khâzash_.  I worry about you out there.”  

“We’re going back out,” Kíli told Fíli.  Captain Randolph has a meeting and then we’re back out.”  Kíli puffed out his chest and grinned.  “I’m doing it!  I’m working on a ship and keeping it going, like I said I would.”

“It’s a pity,” Fíli said.  “I thought you’d take to working at the shipyards.”

“Well, I did,” Kíli said with a shrug.  “But Mahal had other plans.”

“Your path is still wide open.  Imagine your Starfleet career sprawling before you. Decades, a century ahead.  How many ships will we be serving on?  Will you take a job in the Admiralty?  Or forever tinkering in your workshops in some corner of the Federation.”

Kíli scoffed.  “You make it sound like I’m going to be doing this forever.  Listen.”  Kíli cleared his throat.  “I have a plan.  By the time I’m two hundred I’m going to have my own ship.  I’m going to take it to all the leisure spots.  Wrigley.  Risa.  Argelius.

 

“It’s never too soon to plan for retirement.”


	5. Probe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When an alien Probe renders the Yorktown inoperable, Kili and Tandy have to create a makeshift device to generate emergency power for the ship.

One last mission.  

 

The meeting that Captain Randolph had taken at Starbase 12 confirmed it.  The _USS Yorktown_ was due to be decommissioned.  Whether it was due to be mothballed like her sister ship the _USS Enterprise_ was (Well, until it was destroyed in one last rogue mission)  or replace her as a training ship for cadets, no one could say.  As it was, once the _Yorktown_ arrived back at port, its crew would be rotated out and reassigned, including Kíli.  

 

It wasn’t supposed to end like this, though.

 

“Kíli?”

 

Kíli found it hard to awaken.  The air felt thin.  

 

“Lieutenant.”  The voice was firmer, more insistent.  Was it Dr. Wright?  

 

What had happened?

 

“I daren’t give him another stimulant, Captain, he’s gonna come round when he comes round.”  Now that was Dr. Wright’s pugnacious voice for sure.

“Very well.  Fill him in when he’s up.  We don’t have any time to waste.”

 

Kíli found himself struggling to breathe.  Not just thin, but stale, the air felt.  “What’s happening,” he weakly muttered.  Sickbay was dark, with red lighting.  The ship was in low power mode.  He shuddered; the air was cool as well.

“You have been brought back from sedation,” Wright told him.  “Designed to keep your vitals at a minimum to conserve life support.  What’s the last thing you remember?” 

“We encountered a…a massive object,” Kíli recalled.  “Some kind of alien probe?”

“Yes,” Wright affirmed.  “Go on.”

“It was transmitting a massive signal…overloaded our systems.  Just…”. Kíli shook his head.  His head was clearing but it was taking too long.  “This _wub-wub-wub-wub_ sound with shrieking.  And then the power was gone and we were adrift.”  He got up.  His hair was haggard, his braids disheveled, and his beads gone.  “And…okay.  I volunteered to go under.  What’s going on?”

“The Captain remembers you talking about that solar sail idea of yours.  He wants you to implement it.”

“Oh…is that all?”  Kíli said, and laughed shakily.  “Guess I better report to the chief.”

“Hold on, there, bucko,” Wright said.  “Lemme give you this.”  He took Kíli’s arm and administered a hypo.

“What’s that?” Kíli asked.

“Tri-ox, for one thing,” Wright said.  “And a physiological booster for another.  Can’t have you fainting down in Main Engineering.”

“Okay, _now_?” Kíli asked.

“Yes, now,” Wright sighed.

“Wish me luck,” Kíli said, and trotted out of sickbay.

 

Main engineering had been cordoned off until the power could be restored.  Instead, the engineering team—which had been reduced to three since the rest were relegated to hyper-sedation—convened in one of the workshops.   Chief Engineer Cleary and Tandy Morrison were waiting for him.  Tandy looked none the worse for wear; the stress of the low-oxygen air made her look haggard; dark circles were pooled under her eyes.  

“Hey, Tandy,” He said, and patted her arm.  “You look like someone kicked your puppy.”

Tandy smiled faintly, but it faded quickly.  “We lost Taemura,” She said quietly.  “She couldn’t handle the hyper-sedation.”

“Ah, Mahal,” Kíli sighed.  “We will get through this.”

“I brought up your sketch,” Cleary told them.  “According to your notes—“

Kíli spoke up.  “The sail can capture charged particles and convert them to electro-plasma energy, which can run our power grid.”

“How big a sail will we need?” Tandy asked.  

“1500 square meters at the least,” Kíli replied.  “The material has to be thin, conductive, and able to be unfurled a distance away from the ship.

“What kind of material?” Cleary asked.

Kíli thought for a moment, and a smile twisted his face.  “Gold.”

“I don’t think we have enough for a sail that big,” Tandy said.  “What else?”

“Copper, I suppose.  But I think I know how to get the gold we need.”

 

They followed Kíli  down a darkened corridor to the closest transporter room.  “I know we’re not supposed to talk about Project Genesis,” Kíli said to them, as the worked the controls, specifically the targeting systems. “But Doctor Marcus was using a certain algorithm to turn inorganic mass into organic mass, at the subatomic level.  Her son introduced protomatter into the mix, and that’s what possibly caused the Genesis planet to disintegrate.  Or maybe the planet was created in a manner it wasn’t designed for.  In either case, protomatter accelerated the process.  Take it out and it’s basically a zero sum game.  This matter for another.  And what is it our transporters do?”

“Scan a form, convert the mass into energy and reintegrate the mass using the scanned pattern,” Tandy replied. 

“Right.  In theory, what can the Genesis device do that our transporters can’t?”

“Well, doing it on a planetary scale, for one,” Tandy scoffed.

“Okay.”  And as Kíli explained, he gestured with his arms widely.  “So don’t let’s do it on a planetary scale.  And let’s give the algorithm a much simpler pattern to follow.  By comparison, my solar sail is _much_ simpler.  The trick is to convert the raw matter into energy, and that energy into a _whole new_ pattern.

“What is it you're proposing, Lieutenant?” Cleary asked.

Kíli smirked widely.  “The alchemist’s dream, Chief.”

Tandy realized.  “We have a large supply of lead in our cargo hold.  If you can do what you say, that’ll be enough.”

“Lead and gold aren’t far off on the periodic table, so the energy needed to convert the lead would be less than, if I were to use, say, the surplus deuterium,” Kíli explained.  “We’ll also need that to restart the energizers and the impulse drive and limp back home.”

“But there is a power tax, isn’t there?” Cleary said.  “Are you betting on all the remaining reserve power to put your plan into motion?”

“Commander,” Kíli said, looking Cleary right in the eye. “Dead is dead.  Dead from suffocation now or in two days, what does it matter?”

Cleary didn’t have a reply to that.

 “ And you woke me up for a reason,” Kíli reminded him.  “Now, I’ve been dead before, and I can’t say it agreed with me.  I don’t have any intention to return to that state.”  He looked at Tandy who attempted a smile and he winked.  “Death is boring.”

Cleary shrugged and put his hands on the transporter console.  “The other trick is deployment.  We have to get this out there and positioned in the best position to collect those particles.”

“That…might have to require some EVA work,” Kíli admitted.  “We have to connect the sail manually to the umbilical tap on the dorsal side of the engineering hull.”

Cleary breathed in, which seemed to Kíli and Tandy to be a physical feat unto itself, considering the thinness of the air.  And when he exhaled, he shook his head.  “All right.  Go ahead and start whatever it is you plan on doing.”

 

Kíli brought up the file from the computer.  He began the process of converting the specs of the sail into a pattern and fed it into the targeting computer of the transporter.  “Okay, now we need to dematerialize the lead and place it into the pattern buffer,” he told them.  “And just to be clear, we are doing this at the molecular level and not the quantum, so that will save you your precious reserves.”

Cleary nodded.  “Proceed.”

Kíli turned to Tandy and said, “Target the lead and energize.”

Tandy began the process.  The transporter pads lit up, but remained empty.  “All right, the lead is in the buffer.  Now what?” 

“We transpose one pattern for another.  To do that we need to shut down the failsafes, and for that we need your authorization, Chief.”

Cleary extended his arm over the transporter console and entered in his code.  “All right.  Now you’re doing this from a computer file, Kíli.  Just how sophisticated can this pattern be?”

“As sophisticated as the file, I suppose,” Kíli replied.  “Though, like I said, this is a very simple pattern.  A thin wide conducting surface with an EPS hardline which connects to the ship.  Ready to materialize.”

“Do it.” Cleary glared at the screen.  

While warning bars glared red on the screen, the shape of a rectangular object faded into view outside the ship.  In the pale light of the nearest star, it had a dim gold shine to it.

“Omigod,” Tandy breathed.  “You did it, Kee, you really did it!”

“Okay, okay, let’s keep calm,” Kíli said to her.  “We’re not done yet, we still have to scan it to make sure the thing is viable.  Stand by…”

Tandy held her breath as Kíli performed the scan.  He seemed tense at first, reading the return data, but then he released his breath.  “The EPS tap is viable.  It seems to be ready to go,” he reported.

“You and Morrison get out there and connect the sail,” Cleary told them.  “Get ready to unfurl it when you get back, and report to the captain.”

“To the captain, sir?” Kíli asked.  Concern knitted his brow.

“Yes, Lieutenant.  I’ll be in sickbay.  Feel like I’m gonna pass out…”

Before he could move to the corridor, Chief Cleary stumbled and indeed passed out.  

“Chief!” Tandy exclaimed, moving to support him.  “Kee, we gotta get him to Dr. Wright!” 

 

Cleary, it turned out, had to be put back under; the exhaustion of the low-oxygen air had worn him out for a time.  

It was now up to Kíli and Tandy to venture outside the _Yorktown_ and get the sail connected to the umbilical tap.  In EVA suits, they exited the ship through the cargo bay airlock on the port side and used their suits’ thrusters to maneuver them to the sail, which hung impassively a distance from the ship.  the EPS tap, however, was less than fifty meters from the ship itself, which meant that they had to expend a bit of thruster power to get to it, and then get themselves back to the hull surface.  So it was decided that a bit of cooperation was required.  Kíli went first, taking himself to the tap and magnetically tethering to it.  He then aimed himself and the tap at Tandy and fired his thruster again.  When he got to her, she held on to him and they rode the momentum together back to the hull.  From there, they activated their magnetic boots and walked along the hull until they got to the area between the nacelle struts, where the umbilical connections resided on the ship.  He walked up to the EPS outlet and mashed a button which made the shipside connector rise up to meet the tap.  He made the connection and twisted until the indicator light on both sides turned green.  He gave Tandy the thumbs-up and made their way back to the airlock.  

Reentering the ship, the two of them were slightly out of breath, which was not the best thing to be at that moment; the air was still thin.  Ignoring their slight dizziness, they went back to the engineering lab and Kíli began to monitor the sail’s progress.  

“Every time that indicator blinks,” Kíli explained to Tandy, “A charged particle’s been captured by the sail and has converted its energy into something the ship can use.”

“It’s blinking quite a bit,” Tandy pointed out, a hopeful smile on her face.

“Yes, but not quite at full power,” Kíli said.  “We need to move the ship closer.”

“Closer to where?” Tandy asked.

“We are several billion kilometers from the nearest star,” Kíli said.  “If we could get to its heliopause—the point where the star’s charged particles collide with the interstellar radiation,—we could get an optimal amount of particles flowing through our sail.”

“Don’t forget,” Tandy reminded him, “We need to keep power enough to continue our distress beacon as well.”

Kíli nodded.  “With the thrusters, we can get the ship closer to the heliopause slowly, as we increase our power reserves.  From there we can get life-support on solid ground as we wait for help.”

“All right,” Tandy said, nodding.  “Let’s do it.”

They took the ladder way up to the bridge, where Captain Randolph sat slumped on the bridge, his face obscured with an oxygen mask.  A skeleton crew manned the bridge.  Kíli and Tandy rushed to the helm.  

“We’re beginning to see some results,” Randolph told them.  “This may keep us alive long enough to wait for help.”

“We may hope for a little better, sir,” Kíli replied.  “We want to maneuver the Yorktown to these coordinates.”

Randolph leaned over their shoulders.  “You want to harvest the heliopause, then.”

“Yes sir,” Kíli replied.  

“What’s our thruster status?” Randolph asked the helmsman.

The helmsman, a tired-looking ensign, checked.  “Just barely enough.”

Randolph frowned, and before he could air his concerns, Kíli repeated, “Dead is dead, sir.”

“With this move, we can re-up our reserves at a fraction of the time,” Tandy chimed in.  “We can restore life-support and have a chance at restarting our impulse reactor.”

Randolph took a drag from the oxygen mask.  “All right.  Helmsman, move us to those coordinates.  Mister Kíli, Ms. Morrison, monitor our progress from the science station.”

The starship’s thrusters fired from points along its saucer-shaped primary hull.  It turned it up and moved it slowly, closer and closer to a spot that the naked eye couldn’t discern, but the ship’s sensors could tell that the cosmic radiation was coming up against the stellar radiation of that nearby star.  As it moved, it dragged the sail behind it, temporarily flattening the wide billow of material.  

“Reverse thrusters on my mark,” Randolph told the helmsman.  A beat passed, then another. 

“Mark!”

“Reversing thrusters,” The helmsman replied.  “Full stop.”

The sail billowed as the particles that bombarded it hit it from both sides.

“Sail input up four hundred….five hundred fifty-six percent!” Tandy reported excitedly.

“And rising!”

Kíli rushed to the mission ops station.  “We can get auxiliary power up to nominal levels within the day,” Kíli reported.  “We can see if we can get the main energizer up and running from there.”

Randolph gave a great sigh of relief.  The helmsman stretched and yawned, as the lights began to bump up from dismal red to a dim white.

“When we get those nominal life support levels,” Randolph said, “We will revive the crew and prepare for our rescue ship.”  He turned to Kíli and Tandy, and his chiseled features softened.  “And the two of you can have a well-deserved rest.”

Tandy gasped in realization.  “Chief Cleary!”

 

They rushed down to Sickbay where Dr. Wright puttered about.  “Noticed you got something done,” Wright drawled.  “I suppose you want to see how Clark’s doing.”

Chief Cleary lay in a ward bed, with an oxygen mask nearby.  However the air was already feeling fresher and their chief engineer seemed in good spirits.

“Excellent work, you two!” he exclaimed.  “We’ll get this old lady back at port in time after all!”

“You two.  You’re off duty.  Starting now.  Get some sleep.  That’s an order,” Wright said.

Kíli threw his head up and laughed heartily.  “Rest for the wicked at last!” he cried and grabbed Tandy’s hand.  “You heard the doctor.  Nap time!”

 

The two strolled to Kíli’s quarters, where his belongings were already packed up.  His photo with himself and Fili remained by the bed.  They collapsed on the bed together, giggling.

“Well,” Tandy said, gasping for breath.  “Another feather in your cap, huh?”

“Ah, I guess,” Kíli sighed.  “But I really meant it.  I don’t want to die again.”

“Until you walked in, I was scared I was gonna suffocate to death,” Tandy told him, in a small voice.  She took his hand in hers.  “I’ve never told anyone, but the idea of being in a…a small space, just makes me shudder, like I was—“

“Like you were in a grave?” Kíli finished for her.  Tandy began to sniffle, which caused Kíli to purse his lips. “Oh, no, no, _kafhfantsadzê_ , don’t.  We’re fine, you’re fine, the tow will get here and we will be back on Earth before you know it.”  He turned to Tandy and put his hand over her wet cheeks.  “No tears.  Okay?”

Tandy took Kíli’s other hand and turned her face toward his, moving closer.  She kissed him, quietly, slowly, and cautiously.  When she felt him freeze up and begin to pull away, she stopped.

She lay back down, away from him and gazed up at the ceiling before squeezing her eyes shut.  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly.

“It’s fine,” Kíli replied, just as quickly.  

A beat passed between them, and Tandy opened her eyes and turned toward him.

“No, it isn’t, Kíli.  You’ve talked about the person you’re waiting for, and I should have respected that.”

“Thank you for that,” Kíli replied.  “But it was a scary thing you’ve been through.  I think you just needed a friend to kiss.”

“Can we just…stay here a bit longer?” Tandy asked.

He extended his arm out.  “Come here, he said, and the two friends lay there on his bed.  Kíli placed his head on her shoulder, and the two of them enjoyed the quiet until they both fell asleep.

 

****

 

By the time the Yorktown had been returned to Spacedock over Earth, the crisis that had caused their power crisis had been averted.  Kíli took it in as well as he could, but it was a story that involved time travel and bringing back an extinct Earth species back from the past to communicate with the probe.  But whatever the conversation had been, it had worked; The probe retreated from Federation territory, without bothering any other ships.  

And somehow, it was James T. Kirk and his rogue Enterprise crew that did it.  The scales didn’t seem to balance, though.  Kíli was saddened to learn that David Marcus had been killed months ago on the now-disintegrated Genesis planet.  But somehow Captain Spock had been revived.  

He would have to get in touch with Saavik on Vulcan for sure.

But for now, he had a ship to deliver for her new mission.

 

The Yorktown had retained its call sign on its transponder up until it had been delivered  to Spacedock, where its batteries continued to be recharged and the warp drive cold-started.  Even so, on the outside, It had already been committed to a new legacy:

 

NCC-1701-A— _USS Enterprise._

 

As Kíli walked along the corridors of the _Yorktown_ —correction, the corridors of the _Enterprise_ —He felt wistful for his old ship.  The structure was the same, but the old soul was gone.  

He wondered if it was the same with himself when he was revived those few years ago in Starfleet Medical with his brother.  

Once you’re changed, you can’t go back.

 

 

***

 

On Vulcan, Saavik enjoyed the hospitality of Amanda Grayson.  She stayed in the room that once held another who Spock’s family had taken in, a generation ago.  At least for the meantime.  While the Federation council had decided to summarily dismiss much of the crimes James Kirk committed to come to her and Spock’s rescue, Starfleet still felt the need to debrief all points involved for the official record.  She prepared for that eventuality; it meant she would have to relive the events that led to David Marcus’ death.  She also would have to divulge the intimacy that she had shared with Spock during the ordeal.  But for now, it could wait.  

“Am I intruding?” a clear voice cut through her thoughts.  Saavik turned to see another Vulcan woman at the bedroom door.  Her eyes seemed unusually clear and focused on her, and her ears were delicately pointed.  

“Not at all.  Did Starfleet send you?” Saavik asked.

“Actually, I am the envoy from the Vulcan consulate on Earth.  Are you familiar with Consul T’Pol?”

“I know her only by reputation,” Saavik replied.  

“I am T’Rel,” the envoy said.  “T’Pol interceded on your behalf when she realized that you had not yet been debriefed on your ordeal on Genesis.”

“I do not understand,” Saavik said.  “Starfleet regulations would not permit another group to do such a thing, even if is the Vulcan consulate.”

“Nevertheless, this has been arranged,” T’Rel replied, gesturing with her arms open.  Saavik noticed the delicacy of her robes, the thin gold stitching seemed…not quite Vulcan, by her thinking.  

“But before we discuss Genesis,” T’Rel said, her face making a definite un-Vulcan expression, with an almost ferocity that Saavik hadn’t seen since evading the Romulans long, long ago on Hellguard.  “I believe we have an acquaintance in common.”  She held out a stone to Saavik, who recognized the foreign lettering.

 

 

“Please, tell me about Kíli.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Probe was, of course the Whale Probe from Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home and the story is derived from the Yorktown captain detailing their plan for a Solar Sail to stay alive.
> 
> Again, this chapter took a bit long. Thanks again to my subscribers :)


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